


Preachers Daughter

by FloodFeSTeR



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biting, Blood and Violence, Church Sex, Confessional, Corruption, Dean Talks Dirty, Demon Dean Being an Asshole, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon Powers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Hair-pulling, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Intimidation, Kind of kidnapping, Loss of Innocence, Manipulation, Mental Coercion, Mental Instability, Mild Fluff, Mild Painplay, Murder, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Realization, Repressed Memories, Revenge, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sexual Repression, Spanking, Torture, Triggers, Vaginal Fingering, Violence, unprotected sex, virgin!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloodFeSTeR/pseuds/FloodFeSTeR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My sins...I have but one, father," he would say he's going to Hell for this, but he's went for less.</p><p>"And what is that, my child," oh, old man you shouldn't be so welcoming about this, but you don't know yet.</p><p>A small smirk.</p><p>"I've been fucking your daughter."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Reader!Insert deal, so fingers crossed this is any good. And lets pretend this is a wondrous, magical world where Dean stays a demon, which is how I am going to imply it.

He'd been to confession a handful of times, but never in this church.

Did the Good Father know him? Would he recognize his voice? Would he be able to pick him out of a crowd when it was all said and done?

He would know soon enough.

The bench beneath him was a literal pain in the ass, but he had sat longer in worse places so he used it as a throne - was his birthright anyway, to have a throne. Or so he supposed, sure felt that way all of the time.

He heard a soft click and smirked slightly, able to make out just who he was talking to; he'd seen him leaving his house a handful of times.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned," he spoke softly, leaning towards the grate as the Preacher craned his head towards it as well. "It has been seven years since my last confession."

"Confess your sins, my son," the Good Father's voice is gruff with age and soothing, Dean almost feels bad for this.

"My sins...I have but one, father," he would say he's going to Hell for this, but he's went for less.

"And what is that, my child," oh, old man you shouldn't be so welcoming about this, but you don't know yet.

A small smirk.

"I've been fucking your daughter."

 

~~~

 

You don't know how you got here, necessarily, but you know you don't want to be anywhere else now that you've had a taste. Your whole life had come in a specific order, a strict guideline set by an overbearing father; he had come down on you extra hard since your mother, his wife, had run away to Tampa to live a life of sin and debauchery. School, family, religion: Not in that specific order, but he always insisted religion came first. You had always tried to live up to his expectations and you had done that and beyond so far. There were never complaints, unless you counted that Saturday where you had stayed up late to watch television...

But, if your father knew where you were - what you were doing right now - he would do a lot more than ground you for six weeks.

He'd disown you, most likely.

His name was Dean Winchester, and he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. He was older than you - a lot older - and said you were just jail bait, but he continued to shamelessly flirt with you and it felt good to have the attention on you for once. No one dared pray on the Preachers daughter or else they feel his own brand of holy wraith. But Dean wasn't from town, he didn't know who her father was yet, so there was no hesitation, no holding back in his beauty.

"Now, _," he leaned over you, you're back against the wall. "What brings a girl like you to a place like this?"

You looked around, taking in the scent of tobacco and the tang of beer. It stained the floor in a thick, amber puddle under the bar and the drunk to spill the latest bottle was being scolded for it. Your eyes flickered back up to Dean and you blushed at the burn of his eyes, looking down at the toe of your boots. This wasn't the type of place you went - ever - and it obviously showed with how you were dressed, how you held yourself, but you had snuck out to meet friends and they hadn't showed up. Your heart sank a little at the thought; they must have dooped you.

"Just waitin' on some friends," you mumbled, looking up from under your bangs. "Guess they're not gonna show."

"Well that's just rude," he had smiled so charmingly at you, your knees had quivered. "How about we blow this place? Doesn't seem the right setting for this."

Which was what had led you to where you were, roughly pressed against the bright red door of the motel room, Dean fumbling with the keys while he still pressed gentle kisses along your throat. It made you coo, made you gasp, which seemed to please him with the several growls he had produced. You were bright red, blending in with the door and shaking: You'd never been with a guy, ever. No surprise, but you wondered if he would rather a more experienced woman - and you meant woman, you just weren't all the way there yet. Or maybe the rumors were true, maybe when you told him you were a virgin that would be all he wanted. Either way, you were about to get your answer and you didn't have the heart to stop him, plus your instincts were a bit crossed with foreign pleasure rocketing to areas that had rarely felt the tingle.

"Beautiful," he murmured through hooded eyes, the green startling you as he guided you slowly backwards now that the door was open. "Tell me, babygirl, you ever been with a man before?"

You jumped when he kicked the door shut and tossed the keys onto a table off to the side; they slid and hit the carpet, but he didn't seem to care. He continued to back you up while you stuttered, a squeak issuing from your lips when the back if your knees connected with the edge of the bed; gravity brought you to a bouncing seat while Dean stood above you.

"I-I haven't," you licked your lips. "In...any kind of way," you paused. "Kind of hard for the Preachers daughter to get any attention from boys in a small town."

Dean grinned and it was slightly menacing with the dim lighting coming from the open window in the back, the red sign bathing the room in its color; so much red. You could have sworn you saw black in Dean's eyes, but with the lighting, it didn't really make you linger on the suspicion; it didn't make sense anyway.

"Good," he popped his lips and you watched him shrug out of the red button up he had; what kind of scar was that on his forearm? "Would ruin your expectations with me," he tossed the shirt to the end if the bed. "But I'm about to ruin every other man in the world for you."

You trembled at his words, your little heart racing in your chest as he unceremoniously dropped to his knees in front of you. You had every opportunity to say no, say that you didn't want this, but fate had decided to twist your brain so that you could get your own secret revenge on your father. And Dean was magnificent, a nearly perfect specimen aside from the intimidating mannerisms.

He winked at you, rattling you from your mental ranting of your father, chasing away the image of him scolding you with the pleasing sight of Dean between your thighs. He reached beneath you and your breath hitched with the sudden contact with your ass. He squeezed a good handful before tugging you roughly towards him, causing the skirt you were wearing to ride up your skin a little more. His eyes were burning into the apex of your thighs, making you squirm, soaking the crotch of your panties. He flicked the button of your skirt and tugged it down to your ankles, successfully flinging it over his head to slap against the door once he remembered to tug off your boots.

"Mmm," he hummed and you blushed, unable to look away as he leaned in and bluntly inhaled against your sex. "Fresh pussy," he licked his lips like a starving man would. "Rule one baby girl," he made eye contact with you as he began to work your panties down. "If a man don't give head and enjoy the shit, you get rid of him right away."

You nodded, almost locked in a trance of anticipation and second thoughts. Until he craned forward, his tongue darting out against your swollen, aching hole. You gasped and your hips bucked on their own, your right hand fisting in the sheets. Dean grinned in that way again, but it barely registered when he went all in, his tongue burying itself into you. You let out a cry of pleasure, throwing your head back and moaning as he open mouthed your pussy. You lifted a shaky left hand and hesitantly tangled it in his hair, a tremor rocking your frame when he groaned at the feeling.

"Dean!" You squeaked, rolling your hips up against his mouth.

He didn't say anything, moving his tongue up towards the top of your slit while he began to tease a finger against your opening. Your toes curled and he grabbed your right thigh, moving your leg over his shoulder; his work became more thorough. You ran your fingers through his hair, rocking against his mouth and then the finger he began to slowly slide into you. Your body felt like it was on fire, swear beginning to bead in your hairline as he began to scrape his teeth teasingly over your clit, alternating between that and sucking it into his mouth. You looked down to him, making eye contact you simply could not break as you began to come undone against him.

His lips stretched into a grin around you and you gave a loud cry of pleasure, shuddering as you came. He cleaned your thoroughly with his tongue, sending small shocks of pleasure through you while your body remained slack. Your chest heaved and trembled as you tried to catch your breath, your eyes widening when you heard the rattle of a buckle.

You picked up your head in an iffy manner, seeing Dean had removed the dusty black shirt he was wearing and was working on his pants. The look he was giving you was hungry and wanting, but there was also a new look, a look that completely froze you on the bed.

Dean's eyes were black.

A scream clogged your throat and your fingers tightened in the sheets, his eyes finding yours and they were, once again, very much green. He cocked his head, obviously seeing the distressed look on your face and ceasing his motions.

"Why so alarmed, sweetheart," he purred, causing a calming tingle to spread over you.

But you didn't falter. "Your eyes," you squeaked, and his demeanor darkened. "Th-They were black!"

Dean straightened his stance, a small smirk playing at the edges of his lips. The feeling in the room shifted, making your stomach role and wash away your post-orgasmic bliss; so much for that. Dean let out a shrill whistle, which made something pop in your ears and you shook your head, squeezing you eyes shut for a moment. When you opened them again, he was leaning over you and his eyes were most definitely black this time.

"I tried to keep it under check, I really did," he grinned and it was full crazy this time, making your heart try to beat its way out of your chest. "But I can only control it so much around the sweet tang of innocence. And you're really the definition of it baby girl."

You trembled once, unable to move under the dark gaze of black eyes. "Wh-What are you gonna do to me," you whispered, fear making your pitch higher than normal.

He cocked his head again and there was a sick, wet sound as he blinked, pulling his eyes back to that brilliant shade of green that calmed you instantly. He seemed to notice your shift in demeanor and his shifted as well, which was a bit intriguing but your stomach was still tight with dread and you couldn't move, couldn't find satisfaction in having an effect on him.

"I'm gonna do what I promised," he chuckled. "I'm gonna ruin every other man for you...if you'll let me," he paused at the quizzical look on your face. "What? I'm a demon, but I'm polite. And I don't rape. There's the screaming and the fighting, I pulled a muscle trying that shit."

For some reason, the implication that he tried to rape a girl didn't register. "D-Demon," what did you expect? Santa?

"Well yeah, sweet heart," his eyes made that wet sound again and they were black. "I'm a demon, welcome to the world of the supernatural."

Your head was spinning, you must have been too still for too long because when you faded from your blank reprieve of shock, you found Dean kissing lightly up your throat, along the underside of your jaw. And you craned your neck back to give him better access, which made him growl and reminded you of the arousal busy pooling in your gut.

"You're not gonna hurt me are you," you whispered, an airy moan immediately curling past your lips. "Dean," you breathed, unable to control your hand from stroking the back of his neck.

Like petting a dog for doing a good job.

"Not unless you want me to," you gasped again when you felt his large hand cup your sex. "Until I'm done, this pussy is mine though, got it?"

You nodded numbly, rocking your hand up against his index and middle finger that pressed against your entrance. They didn't dig deep, just applied heating pressure against the tender spot, making you squirm. His teeth tugged at your ear lobe, moving down until he got annoyed with the shirt that was still in the way. He urged you up for a moment, gracefully tugging your shirt over your head while working two fingers into your sex, making a sharp scissoring motion.

You panted and bucked against his hand, eyes half lidded as you watched him closing in on your breasts. You groaned and arched into his mouth when he abruptly sucked a nipple between his teeth, rolling it lightly with his tongue while you reached both hands up to run your fingers through his hair.

"Fast learner," he mumbled against the underside of your breast. "That's good...that's very good."

There was a weird way he was looking up at you, making you squirm from more than the needy pleasure building between your legs. It was a yearning - for what, you didn't know yet - but you kind of liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

When Dean guides your hand to the hard, firm bulge in his briefs, everything becomes very, very real. His teeth pluck harshly at the nipple still in his mouth and you let out a pitiful little cry, boldly squeezing his cock through the fabric. Your eyes move down, fingers testing the hold you have on the back of his head, keeping him working your chest.

He grins in a wolfish way as he starts to roughly slam his fingers deep into you, enjoying the way you gasp and groan, arch and buck wildly against his hand. Its amazing, its possibly the most amazing thing you have ever felt in your life; so many sensations, your entire body felt like it was on fire. Your whimpered and ran your hand in a circle through his hair, arching your chest into his mouth as you came on his fingers, having to bite your lip to refrain from screaming like you ached to. You grunted with each heavy thrust of your hips, wishing for just a little more pressure in your pussy; you craved it.

Your hand was still caressing the non-mysterious bulge and you gave it a small squeeze, gasping when he bucked into your hand.

Dean pulled his head from your chest, working back up to your lips before extracting his fingers from you; you whined at the loss of contact. You panted into his mouth, edging after his lips when he pulled away abruptly. You almost whined again, then choked on your tongue when he sucked his fingers into his mouth; they were already shiny going in. He closed his eyes this time, groaning as you watched his tongue flicker out around his fingers. Did he really enjoy the taste that much? His advice from between your thighs made you blush realizing that yes, he enjoyed the way you tasted to the point of panting as heavily as you.

When Dean opened his eyes this time, they were pitch black but you only felt a twitch in your belly at the sight. He pulled his fingers from his lips with a 'pop!' and grinned, claiming your lips roughly. You arched up against him, begging for full-body contact and receiving it as he explored your mouth with his tongue; you could taste a tangy sweetness in him and blushed knowing it was you tasting your own juices.

"You ready baby," he purred, lips brushing lightly enough to yours that the sensation tickled.

You looked down as he tugged his briefs away, revealing the first penis you had ever seen; on a man anyway. Your nostrils flared and your chest tightened at the sudden fearfulness upon seeing him, your eyes flickering up to his. The darkness held no comfort, no reassurance, just anticipation for you to say yes. You looked back down at his cock, which he stroked in an almost loving way. A jolt of pleasure shot down to your clit and you swallowed, nodding slowly.

"Y-Yes, Dean," you whispered, head swimming with the situation. "Please..." He arched an eyebrow and you sputtered. "Please...fuck me?"

He chuckled at that, hunching his hips forward to stroke the head of him up and down your folds, teasing you with light pressure on every other stroke. He craned his neck down to kiss you on the side of your jaw, causing little pecks of noise in your ears.

"Oh no, sweetheart," he murmured and his hooded eyes were green again, making you melt. "Your pretty little mouth doesn't need to say stuff like that..."

You didn't say anything, eyes widening and your thighs hooking up around his hips when he filled you in one stroke. There was a burning pain in your groin but you didn't cry, though a tear did streak down your temple and into your hair. When your lips parted, you inhaled sharply and let out small pants, tongue rolling in your mouth as you wiggled your hips against his. Your muscles instinctually clenched at him and he growled, his fist tightening in the sheets but he didn't move yet.

"Gods damned," he groaned and rocked his hips against yours, pulling yet another moan from you. "So fucking tight," he hadn't had a virgin in a long fucking time. "Okay baby girl. . .I'm gonna fuck you now, got it?"

"Please Dean," you groaned, body very much confused when he began to slowly pull out of you.

When he pulled back, there was a little pain, a lot of discomfort; like a pulled muscle. But there was also pleasure, but that could be from him eating you out, giving you two orgasms already. Preparation. Your thighs ached already from being tense and the shaking, but you flexed them around his hips, moaning as he slowly plunged into you again. You looked up at him, saw him gritting his teeth before his lips parted and he did the sexiest thing you had ever seen/heard:

He moaned.

It wasn't a grunt or a growl, not close to a groan. It was an airy, light moan and sounded almost delicate.

Pleasure made you quiver around him at the sound and you reached up, pleading for his lips on yours by tugging down on the back of his head and with a grip on his shoulder. His eyes darkened but they didn't turn black at the action, he leaned into you, granting you the kiss you wanted.

His hips began to move smoother, picking up their pace and connecting to yours with sharp slaps. You moaned and panted against him, getting more rhythm with your own hips and the kiss; fast learner indeed. Dean moves a hand to your lower back and eased your hips up a little, making a surprising difference in the sensations.

"Dean," you moaned it loudly this time. "D-Dean! Ah! Ah!"

He growled at your grunts and the way your hips angled up, meeting him thrust-for-thrust to a degree. You were bucking wildly, reaching your peak for the third time that night but this was different. This time, it was a lot stronger, more intense, more raw. You wanted to scream and mewl, wanted to do so many things but you were pretty sure he would laugh at you or think you foolish; you didn't want that. But you couldn't stop your nails from tugging at his skin, leaving thin streaks of red down his upper arms, biceps. He seemed to enjoy the sting and surprised you with tugging on the hair at the base of your skull, which. . .you also enjoyed.

You moaned and let him tug lightly, a warm feeling beginning to rise in your stomach with the thought that he was just testing you instead of diving in.

You nearly screamed as you reached climax, wantonly humping against Dean as you milked his cock. His hand fisted in your hair, strangely prolonging your orgasm, and he let out an actual roar. You jumped but continued to tremble, licking your lips at the intense pleasure making your muscles begin to go slack. Dean's grip released on your hair and moved the hand to your hip, jerking your hips against his as he fought for full release. Finally, he slammed - the term was appropriate - your hips in a bruising way against his and you felt a warmth begin to spread from inside of you.

There it was again, that airy little moan, so soft and low it didn't seem right coming from a man that looked and acted like Dean. You loved the sound, craved more of it for some strange reason, but he sealed his lips tight as his hips rocked against yours a little more, pumping his cum into you. When he was done, you knew by the way he slouched and buried his face into your neck, his tongue lazily wiping at the sweat that was clinging to you.

You liked the feeling of him against you, your arms able to wrap around him. You shouldn't care though, because he was just passing through and would be gone either tomorrow or before you woke up. And then it would be Hell to pay when you got home because you weren't even supposed to be out in the first place. You trembled and released and involuntary whimper into Dean's shoulder, your fingers digging into his skin to ground your thoughts. But he shifted, noticing your own shift and pushed himself up onto his arms. His eyes were hooded and analytical on your face, which you knew couldn't hide any secrets.

"What now," he rumbled, slowly peeling himself away from you.

You swallowed, eyes fixated on him as he stood above you now. "I. . .I snuck out to be at that bar tonight," you mumbled.

He snorted and you squeaked when he abruptly scooped you into his arms. "Shocker," he quipped and then laid you properly on the bed, almost making you smile when he literally jumped over you to the other side of the bed; everything shook. "So what? Scared you're gonna get grounded?"

"Yes," you said plainly, resting with your back to him. "My father is going to be. . .so mad at me," you tightened your hand around the corner of the pillow you laid your head on.

You stiffened a little when Dean breathed over the back of your neck, your eyes closing when he began to place light kisses here and there. A demon. You had. . .bed a demon, the Preachers daughter. And enjoying yourself. You rarely got to do such a thing - enjoy yourself - and had never felt pleasure like this. You were pretty sure Dean was right, he had ruined you for other men. There was something about it, something so utterly perfect and intoxicating, even if he was a demon.

"We'll worry about that later," he whispered into your ear and slipped a hand over your thigh, hitching your breath when he cupped your sex in his hand. "You just enjoy yourself, baby girl and let me handle your daddy."

You were so sensitive, but loved the feeling of his hand just languidly stroking against your folds. The moment felt so intimate, even though you didn't fully know what that meant. You didn't want this to end, but you had to get home at least by morning and the thought terrified you.

"He's gonna hurt me," you whispered without realizing it; you had meant to only think that.

The room went still, there wasn't even a sound, not from you or Dean or anything else - he had even stopped trying to wiggle a finger into you. His breath was slow on the nape of your neck, making you anxious.

"I told you not to worry about it," there was a sudden edge to his voice and he went back to slowly touching you. "Just let me worry about all that, understand?"

It wasn't a request - it was a demand.

"O-Okay, Dean," you whispered, exhaling a long breath when he flushed himself closer to your back.

 

 

~~~

 

You wake up alone. . .which isn't that big of a surprise, but you had been hoping for something more than aching muscles and sticky thighs.

You hadn't slept so well in a long time, which makes it hard for you to wake up even if your heart is already pounding at the reminder of the previous night. Your father would blow up on you, he would definitely deliver a righteous punishment for this stunt. But you felt slightly liberated, to not have to wake up early - before the sun even - to pray, to do chores. You when had school today, but you didn't even give that a second thought as you inched your way to the bathroom.

When you stepped out, expecting to only be alone, you were struck frozen when you saw Dean setting down a brown paper bag at the table near the door. He grinned at you and you smiled back hesitantly, eyes flickering to your clothes on the floor. His chuckled drew your eyes back to him and he was already drinking a beer.

"Get dressed, sweetheart," he said it so gently. . .

You did as he said - as you intended to do anyway - and when you were dressed, you hesitated at his side. You felt too queasy to eat, but took the food he gave you anyway, realizing after the first bite that you were ravenous. You blushed when you caught him smiling at you, leaning back on one arm against the table as he nurses his beer. You ate too fast, stomach aching before you were even done and you hated yourself when you actually were, but only rubbed your stomach absentmindedly.

"Thank you," you cleared your throat a little. "I. . .I need to go home," because he didn't already know that, ya know?

Dean sighed and tipped the beer back, rather silent as the last bit worked down his throat; is it creepy you stared blankly at his flexing throat? Oh well then, you couldn't stop, not until he was done anyway. He didn't catch you, so you just tucked some hair back behind your ear and sat down in one of the chairs when he did.

"How does he hurt you, _" Dean questioned, face serious.

You looked up through your hair, feeling your throat closing up, nails picking at each other in your lap. "I. . ." You shook your head. "I'm not supposed to tell. . ."

"Oh honey," he shifted in his seat, a small smirk on his lips. "I think after I was inside of you, I gained the right to know why you're so scared of daddy."

"Please," you whispered, fingers clenching into fists. "Please don't. . .don't say that," you whispered.

He didn't seem particularly put off when you whispered, just leaned closer with a scrutinizing furrow of the brow. "And why not, " again, not threatening.

You hesitated again, fear gripping you but you didn't last long under Dean's intense gaze. "He. . .He makes me call him that when he punishes me," you whispered.

There was a growl in his chest, a genuine growl, like a dog and when he jumped to his feet, you looked up in fear. His eyes were solid black and fixated on you, which tore the air from your lungs, made you freeze like a deer in headlights. He was still growling, his breath coming through his teeth in an inhuman baritone. It was terrifying, even if he was just standing there. It was like facing down a raging bull and knowing you had no way out, no hope of outrunning it.

But, he didn't attack you like you dumbly suspected, he took his anger out on the bed and it went crashing into the other side of the room, shattering the window and setting off an alarm. This motel had an alarm? Maybe it wasn't as shifty as it looked. . .

You yelped when Dean snatched you up, roughly dragging you outside and to that beautiful, shiny Impala of his. There was no resistance on your part, even let him basically throw you into the passenger seat. He slammed the door shut and you shakily clicked the seatbelt on, watching him climb into the drivers seat. The engine rumbled to life and you had a death grip on the door as Dean politely peeled out of the parking lot, leaving streaks of black on the pavement.

"Dean. . ." You whispered, knowing the curves he was taking all too well. "Dean, where are we going," you had to be sure, maybe - just maybe - he was just going this way by coincidence.

He was still growling, huffing and puffing while you trembled in the seat. His black eyes flickered over to you, back to green and the deepness faded as he tried to ground himself again. He inhaled deeply, adjusting his grip on the steering as he began to slowly smirk.

"Jus' payin' your dad a visit," he looked over and registered the fear on your face. "He is at work, right?"

Your jaw trembled. "Y-Yes but Dean -"

"Ah ah ah," he wagged a finger. "Doth think the lady protest too much," you almost corrected him but didn't.

"Dean, you can't do this," you were close to tears. "Dean please, please if he knows I was with you -"

"I'm flattered you're worried about me baby girl," he reached over and pat your upper thigh, fingers giving the inside of your thigh a good squeeze and sending a shock straight to your pussy. "But seriously - you should be more worried about your father. I can't wait to see the look on his face when he gets a load of you."

You opened your mouth to speak but he jerked the steering wheel to the side, forcing you to look up at the tall steeple of your fathers church. Your veins filled with ice, eyes sweeping the empty parking lot; he was here alone today. You looked over at Dean, who had cut the engine and was curved in his seat, smiling in an eerie way. You pressed yourself against the door, heart hammering away in your chest. What was he doing? Did he really think this was a good idea, to confront the small town Preacher about his daughter?

"Dean -"

You screamed when he lurched forward, hand clamping down over your mouth. Your eyes bugged and you flailed beneath him, swallowed by the blackness of his eyes. You felt a burning going down your throat but you couldn't stop staring at his inhuman white teeth.

"Daddy's in for a bit of a surprise," Dean murmured as you began to go slack.

 

~~~

 

There was an eerie silence in the church as Dean grinned through the screen, watching the Good Father slowly turning towards him. The information began to sink in and Dean couldn't stop himself.

"Man," he smacked his lips. "I can still taste her pussy in my mouth," he boldly licked his lips. "Sweet as can be - Hell of a daughter ya got there. Tightest bitch I've ever been with, would have pegged her for a virgin but you already took care of that for me, hmm? The Good Father taking out his anger on his sweet little girl, drunk at night, needin' some pussy and you make it to the wrong bedroom?"

"Blasphemy," the father barked as he shot up from his seat, hunched from the tight space while Dean just grinned. "You defiled my daughter!"

"Oh no, daddy," the Father went quiet. "I didn't defile her. . .no, that was your job. I just opened her eyes a little," he reached out and easily tore the screen away, peering into the Preachers little spot with black eyes. "Showed her just how to take care of you. . ."

Before the Preacher could opens his mouth, he heard tour rapidly approaching screaming and yelped when the head of an axe embedded itself into the door. You grunted and braced your right foot against the door, jerking the axe out of the door. You screamed as you rammed it through again, again and again until you dropped the axe with your right hand, keeping it held while you jerked away the wood; your hands bled.

Dean whistled as he stepped out of the confessional, adjusting his red shirt before he placed a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him, stopping on contact and panting. He flicked his fingers, a gesture for you to step back and he kicked in enough of the wood to jerk your father out of the only barrier between you and him.

Your father screamed as Dean threw him down to your feet, the blue of his eyes swallowed by his pupils as he looked up into your eyes.

"Now, Good Father," Dean braced his boot against his back. "I think its time for repentance."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not happy with the ending of this, but I might come back and edit later. Anyway, thank you all for the love of this, okay? Seriously, I was so hesitant to even start this thing but. . .anyway, thank you all again!!

It was a slow and painful process, but you had managed to remember just enough thanks to whatever Dean had done with your head. The brush of skin-on-skin that you didn't want, the whiskey stained breath, the growls of how you were just like her mother and the way you screamed -

It didn't matter anymore.

Because Dean was here and he would protect you, he would make your father pay for what he had done. He was sobbing now, tied to the confessional chair and begging for mercy.

"See," Dean tsked as he twirled the awfully terrifying, gangly blade in his hand; were those teeth on the edge? "I bet she begged you for mercy," he wagged the blade at you and your fingers tightened around the axe handle. "And you just went along with your little plan," Dean chuckled. "See, I may be a demon - but I don't rape girls. Even Lucifer would disapprove - trust me."

You were twitching, waiting for Dean to command you, do something, make the move on his own. Your body was a live wire with conflicting emotions and sensations; it wouldn't take much but the hint at a direction and you were pretty sure you would dive head first gladly. You weren't shaking, which was a bit surprising considering the way you felt, you were completely still - save for your eyes. They darted to Dean and your father, who was still babbling about how Dean had defiled you, taken you from him. It sent sick feelings straight to your gut, made the urge to just drive the axe into his face so much more potent. You'd never had a violent thought in your life - that you could remember - but right now you absolutely craved to spill his fucking blood.

"Come here baby girl," Dean didn't look at you, just curled his finger in a 'come hither' motion.

Your eyes flickered to your father before you did as Dean said, dragging to axe behind you. The grating sound of the blade against the hard church floor was loud and obnoxious, but you found no content when you stopped beside Dean and the noise ceased.

Dean reached out and took your jaw in his hand, keeping you still. "So she's yours," your father looked up, threats in his eyes making a familiar prick in your spine quiver. "Want me to show you how much she's yours? Baby girl, drop the axe," you did. "Good girl. . .good girl."

Dean chuckled and leaned down - he was so fucking tall - urging you forward to plant an open mouth kiss on you. Your tongue hesitates against his but he didn't seem to care about your questioning, he just nipped at your bottom lip. You moaned, loud and long, into his mouth and your knees quivered when you felt one of his big hands ease up your skirt, long fingers probing your sex. Heat exploded and spread through your chest, to the back of your neck and you cantered your hips against his hand.

"Mine. . ." He growled and you nodded shakily, eyes still closed and your breath becoming easily ragged as he reached back with his other hand, grabbing a handful of your ass with the handle of the blade between you. "So perfect and all mine," his fingers took a heavy stroke up your folds, determined to make you crumble.

You could hear your father spitting curses through swollen lips, struggling in his creaky chair but Dean was easily pulling you up towards climax. His fingers dug into your ass, essentially keeping you on your feet as your upper body swayed back, hunching your hips against his hand as soft ebbs of pleasure washed through you. You gave soft pants and your chest heaved as you climbed higher and higher, your eyes squeezing tight as you bit down on your bottom lip. You came with a soft cry, more of a whimper and clung to him, trying to keep yourself on your feet while his hand was doing a pretty good job with its grip.

"Now," Dean bent to the left, placing the large blade gently on one of the pews. "Do you still think she's yours, or do I have to push this," the grunt and struggle your father gave in his chair said yes and you didn't like where this was going; Dean sighed. "Okay, baby girl he doesn't seem to be getting the message - why don't you pick up your axe again?"

You looked between your father and then Dean, slowly doing as the latter instructed. The head of the axe scraped along the floor and your legs wobbled but you looked to Dean, waiting for the next move. He was smirking devilishly at your father and you had no doubt his eyes were that piercing black - you couldn't see from the angle. But he confirmed it when he looked down at you, bringing up that tingly feeling in your belly.

"Have fun, doll," he pat your shoulder and turned around while you licked your lips; you heard one of the pews creak and he must have sat down. "Put on a show for me though."

You ran your tongue slowly over your lips, swaying as you approached your father; it was almost like you were on auto-pilot. Your fathers eyes were wide on you, lips moving in whispered prayers and begging you not to do just what you were prepared to do. You ground your teeth together before screaming and swinging the axe down, your pupils blown wide as blood spurt from the now aching wound in your fathers right shoulder. He wailed and thrashed, chair rocking as you pressed your right foot against his chest.

"Shut up," you screeched as the axe broke free from his skin, sending blood down in a thick path to your feet. "Just shut the fuck up! So tired of hearing your crying!"

Your father continued to scream as he bled and you panted, twisting the axe in your hand and feeling all of that pent up rage just festering beneath your skin. You looked over at Dean, he was just watching with his arms hanging lazily on the back of the pew. He flashes you a grin and you smiled softly before turning back to your father, who was beginning to shake and whimper.

"Pathetic," Dean murmured as he cocked his head to the side. "Already going into shock," he paused. "This wasn't as exciting as I wanted it to be."

You didn't stop though, you just raised the axe again and swung it down, nearly landing it in the exact spot on his shoulder; you missed it by inches. He wailed and shook his head violently in a circle, like he was the one possessed. When you jerked the axe out and more blood trembled to the floor around you, the momentum pulled his chair forward. He landed on the floor face first, shaking and coughing, blood basically pouring out of him like a faucet on high.

You licked your lips and wiped your forearm across your face, feeling a wetness trailing behind on your skin. You ground your teeth as you raised the axe above your head again, letting it tremble in the air for a long moment. It went down heavy, slicing clear through his skull and embedding itself into the floor.

His gurgles ceased and his body went slack, leaving only your heavy pants to fill the air. Your hands slipped from the handle, eyes watching it dip slightly in the air but it didn't fall.

You jumped when thick arms draped around your waist, pulling you back against a hard chest and hot breath wafted over your throat. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about," he murmured and pressed a sloppy kiss against your jaw. "Real justice. . ."

You let out a thick breath and relaxed against him, eyes going a bit misty as you watched the blood slowly stretching out over the smooth wood. He was dead. . .your father was dead, you had killed him and. . .you were indescribably happy about it.

"Now," he brushed his nose up your temple, making your breath hitch as he cupped a hand between your legs. "Where should we start? On the pew. . .how about the floor? See how long we can rut it out before the blood reaches us. . ."

"Dean," you breathed and hunched your hips forward, aching for. . .everything.

"Baby girls all keyed up," he hummed and abruptly spun you around, onyx eyes gleaming down at you. "Never fucked in a church. . .and I'm just dying to eat you up in the eyes of God."

You nod feverishly, letting him begin to slowly peel your bloody clothes from your body, quickly leaving you naked and cold in the middle of a church you had grown up in practically. Your eyes run down him as he unbuttons the red shirt and tossed it on top of that blade; you want to groan at the sight of him just slowly stripping for you. He keeps the shirt on, but takes his pants off, hard on straining beneath his briefs.

"Oh sweet heart," he mumbles as he eased you down onto the floor; the blood is a concern you don't take seriously. "You just look absolutely delicious."

You get ready to spread out on the floor, breath heavy and aching to have him eclipse you but he's the one that lies back on the floor. Your brow furrows but he pulls on your hand, then your hip, a soft, uncertain coo coming from your lips when you realize his intentions.

"Oh yeah," he grins, green eyes mischievous. "Yeah, you're gonna sit your pretty ass on my face and I'm gonna watch you cum again."

The crude way he spoke only seemed to stoke the hot coals building when you gazed down at his deliciously beautiful face between your legs. He winked, which almost made you giggle for some insane reason, but all you could do was choke on a moan when his tongue ran softly between your folds. You felt his soft hair between your sticky fingers before you realized you had even reached fo him in the first place.

You blinked through the haze your eyes seemed to have crossed with and looked down, seeing his eyes closed as he teased your clit with soft caresses of his tongue. It struck down into you in excessive intervals, teeth raking roughly over your clit when he seemed to lose a little patience for some reason.

You groaned and let your head roll around on your shoulders with the delightful tingles stroking through you. Your hips rocked against the stubble on his jaw, eyes shut tightly as your lips parted in a silent moan when he pressed a finger against your opening. Your breath hitched in your throat and you rose up a little on your knees as he tested a second finger. Every muscle in you ached to completely lose yourself above him, but you held back, not wanting to look. . .was foolish the right answer?

"Dean. . ." You moaned, feeling the peak coming closer and closer. . .

He gently ran his tongue flat over your clit, moving his head in a soft swiveling motion and making every muscle in you twitch and ache. His fingers moved in an agonizingly slow pace in and out of you, but the pace seemed to make you only want to scream even louder when you finally came. You tossed tour head back and let out something that in your head sounded like a moan but your ears said that was a scream.

He didn't stop until you forcibly jerked back over his chest, hands dragging you back as he hungrily followed you up into a seated position. He braced a large hand flat against your back, his other hand somewhere between you as his lips claimed yours. You whimpered against him, hands fluttering against his chest and your hips wiggled when you felt his hard cock pressing tight against your belly.

You pulled back slowly, yours lips aching to be against his again but you had to look down between your thighs. You swallowed thickly and inhaled deeply as he moved his hand to your lower back and supported your shaky thighs as you inched up his throbbing friend.

"Fuck," Dean growled against your throat and you gasped in his ear as you sank slowly down onto him; the tendon in your groin jerked. "Feel so God damn good," he plucked at your skin with his teeth, hips rolling up into yours.

Your tongue pressed out between your lips as you pushed yourself up and then sank back down again, another whimper coming from your throat. You felt every delightful pull and bump as he grabbed your hips and assisted the rhythm, a gasp and groan pulled from your lips at nearly every other thrust.

Your eyes flew open when he drug you back to the floor, his eyes dark as he hovered above you, eyes that peculiar shade of soulless black. Your thighs hugged his hips, chin softly arching as your eyes stayed locked with his, his hips brutalizing yours. He grunted and growled, slamming into you and raking your back against the wood of the floor. You meweled and gripped his shoulders, eyes fluttering closed as you tried to match his rhythm but failed. His right hand gripped your hips in a painful hold, rolling your hip up against him and making you both groan.

"D-Dean," you whimpered, voice low and airy as you began to unravel beneath him.

"Come on baby," he whispered, watching you start to pant and whimper beneath him, sweet dotting his brow. "Cum for me baby girl."

And you did, just as he told you to do, bucking and whimpering, singing his name like a prayer. Your walls clenched at his cock, his hips erratic and paceless thanks to the vice your body created. He grunted and gave two final thrusts before he hung his head, hips twitching softly against yours as he came.

You swallowed softly as your muscles seemed to become jelly-like in their consistency. The church walls echoed back labored breathing and the rake of skin over the floorboards, the soft pop of Dean's sweaty skin pulling off of yours. You craned your head up weakly, watching him pull out of you with hooded eyes; you had an odd fascination.

"Well, doll face," he said in a breathless way, which made you shiver in more need. "Me thinks its time to get cleaned up and the fuck out of here, huh?"

Your lips trembled and you slowly, shakily, pushed yourself up, looking over at your fathers leaking corpse. "We don't have to pick him up, do we," you whispered, kind of concerned about the easy way you said that, like he was a squished cockroach you didn't want to pick up.

Dean chuckled and pushed himself up to his feet, tucking himself away in his briefs and shaking out his jeans. "Nah, leave him there for the choir to clean up," he hummed and his eyes watched you stand. "Here," he grabbed the red button up from the bench seat and tossed it at you. "Bloody clothes aside."

You nodded softly and began working on the buttons, watching him grab the bloody clothes before he grabbed that gangly blade. You looked down at your father again, wanting so badly to spit on him, but you only jogged to catch up to Dean. He looked down at you when you reached his side, a sudden smile breaking over his face.

You looked down at his hand as it laced around yours, squeezing tight as he led you out to that black Impala.

You couldn't help but smile too. "Where are we going," you asked, that uneasy feeling becoming background noise; what did he do to make you so okay with this?

He hummed and swung your hands between the both of you in a childish manner. "Well, there's a bar I swung by before hitting here that has some great karaoke. . ."


End file.
